


colla parte

by thebetterbina



Series: accompagnato [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, M/M, PWP, Porn With Plot, for?? being a little shit, in which case harry gets fucked, oho, part 2 of violin au that took so damn long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebetterbina/pseuds/thebetterbina
Summary: “I don’t understand. Youlikeme performing solo, why all of a sudden do you want to see me in an orchestra?” Harry huffs, sauntering over to Tom and curling up next to him. Resembling so much an annoyed cat, Tom can’t resist stroking the soft bed of black hair.“Being a solo violinist is one thing, but contributing your talent to a group is another.”“Well, I don’t like the conductor,” Harry mumbles petulantly.Tom has to remind Harry who's boss.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: accompagnato [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1649857
Comments: 6
Kudos: 193





	colla parte

**Author's Note:**

> beta done by my wife, [liz ♡](https://twitter.com/lizardayo)
> 
> enjoy

Harry, he’s come to learn, doesn’t play well with others.

Tom has himself to blame, for requesting that Harry perform in an orchestra. He thought his songbird might just sing even better in the company of other talented musicians and a well-known conductor—but, no. 

Harry, his talented, beautiful Harry, gets offered the position of concertmaster (Tom expected nothing less) for the symphony piece.

But on his first rehearsal day, he gets into an argument with the conductor. 

On the second, he flat-out refuses to perform with the company, storming out of the concert hall.

Tom has his work cut out for him.

* * *

“You’re a terribly willful creature, has anyone told you that? Obstinate, and—”

“What, stubborn?” Harry scoffs, throwing down his jacket and tie with a huff. “Why yes, there’s my dad, mum—my ex-girlfriend too!”

It’s supposed to be a jab, Harry knows how much the idea of his ex annoys Tom, but Tom refuses to react, sprawling out on the couch. He clicks his tongue at the haphazardous discarding of clothes, idly flicking his fingers to allow the clothes to fold themselves up neatly. 

“I don’t understand. You  _ like _ me performing solo, why all of a sudden do you want to see me in an orchestra?” Harry huffs, sauntering over to Tom and curling up next to him. Resembling so much an annoyed cat, Tom can’t resist stroking the soft bed of black hair. 

“Being a solo violinist is one thing, but contributing your talent to a group is another.”

“Well, I don’t like the conductor,” Harry mumbles petulantly.

Tom sighs, running a free hand through his own hair as Harry watches. 

“Are you doing this to test my patience? I’ve let you do whatever you want, and all I ask for is one orchestra performance.”

Harry reels back, a tight frown on his face, “You’re  _ my _ demon, aren’t you? You’re supposed to listen to  _ me _ —”

Tom reacts so quickly, all Harry gets out is a surprised gasp before he finds himself pushed back onto the couch. Tom has a single hand over Harry’s neck, his fingers splayed over the pale expanse of skin threateningly tight as Harry squirms away from the hold. 

“Do not mistake the contract we have for kindness,” he hisses, low and harsh against the shell of Harry’s ear. “I could break your neck and swallow you  _ whole _ , boy.” His grip turns near-crushing in punctuation.

Harry whimpers, still fighting against the hold, his hips up bucking up and accidentally brushing Tom’s thigh—

Tom pauses, casting a glance down before his eyes flick back up to Harry's in curiosity, watching him flush, his eyes close shut in embarrassment. Tom presses a knee up, against the hardness of Harry and his fidgeting body. 

“Oh,” Tom says on an exhale, watching Harry turn redder by the second, whether it be in embarrassment or just the hand squeezing him tight with steady pressure. “Darling boy, is this your way of asking for attention?” Tom chuckles, releasing the near death-grip on Harry’s neck and backing off slowly from the boy, who curls up in on himself toward the far side of the sofa and sends a furious little glare Tom’s way.

Still so insolent. It gives him an idea.

“Strip.”

“What?”

  
“Don’t make me repeat myself. Strip and get on the bed.” His eyes flash. It takes just a second but enough to remind Harry who he’s with.

Harry obeys with a confused scramble from the couch, unbuttoning his dress-shirt and dropping his pants, giving a questioning glance to Tom with his hands hovering over the waistband of his boxers.

Tom just raises a brow impatiently. “Go on.”

His hands shake as he slides his underwear down to pool at his feet.

Tom stalks closer to the bed, eyes roving over Harry standing nude, with his head bowed and eyes down.

“Lay on your back, hands above your head.” 

Harry obeys, trembling lightly when Tom touches his wrists. At a clinking sound of metal above him, Harry makes a confused noise, glancing up in alarm when he sees his hands have been essentially chained to the bed.

“Tom—”

He hushes Harry’s distress with a kiss, deft fingers carefully trailing down slender arms, across Harry’s naked torso, earning a strangled whimper and a grind of his hips. He chuckles against those eager lips, the restraints holding fast against the post of the bed. Though it's not as if Harry bothers to struggle—even though the cuffs won’t actually hurt, they might still bite against his wrists.

Tom is careful when it comes to Harry’s hands—always careful, even though he technically doesn’t have to be. He could break Harry’s fingers as many times over as he wants and they’d still heal perfectly but … it’s the thought of Harry’s distress that stops him. 

He’s seen it before, Harry close to breaking down at any slight pain in his fingers. More than once he’s had to console the boy from the phantom pains that linger, the agony that his brain refuses to forget. Scars of the mind were harder to heal that way, and even as a demon there’s very little he can do without damaging Harry’s mind beyond repair.

Harry looks beautiful like this, naked and vulnerable, a blushing virgin offered up to him with hands bound above his head. It’s sacrificial almost. His pale skin like holy land, all of which he intends to fill with sin.

He summons the bottle of lube from the bed stand, watching clear liquid dribble on his fingers as his other hand works the boy up with lazy pulls to Harry’s cock. He tries to push up into Tom’s touch, yearning for more friction, little strangled gasps which turn into a flinch when Tom presses a single cold, slicked up finger against the boy’s perineum. He rubs in teasing circles over his rim, getting Harry sensitive and slick, and finally pushes the digit in smoothly, after Harry gives an annoyed kick up at Tom’s stomach which he catches with a smug smirk, putting the offending leg over his shoulder as he does so. It changes the angle of Tom’s crooked finger, letting it slide that much deeper and brush up against that spot inside Harry that makes him moan and shiver.

Harry’s body runs hot, tight and unyielding against the single finger pushing in and out as he writhes against him.

“More—Tom,  _ please _ —”

He obliges. 

By the time he’s worked him up to three, it becomes unbearable for Harry, who more than makes his displeasure known with blind thrusts, rocking himself forward into Tom’s fingers—his poor little cock hard and red, leaking and curved against his body. His quick, soft breaths are the only sound in the room, faint little mewls with every careful stroke Tom makes teasing inside him. 

“Tom—stop teasing—”

“Tomorrow, you will apologize to the conductor and behave in rehearsal.”

“ _ What— _ ”

He makes his point clear by curling his fingers, pushing upwards to that special bundle of nerves that has Harry jolting and letting out a punched-out gasp. “You will apologize to the conductor and behave. Am I understood?”

Harry grimaces, biting his lips in petulance and shaking his head.

Tom sighs, though it’s in fondness as both hands work over Harry’s trembling body, jerking his cocklet and punctuating it with thrusts of his fingers. He knows when Harry is close, the boy’s toes curling and his voice a needy whine just as Tom’s grip over his cock tightens. Fingers entirely stop their movements.

Harry lets out a gasping sob, trembling right on the edge, Tom’s grasp making certain he won’t be able to chase his release.

He presses a biting kiss to the inside of Harry’s thigh.

“Am I understood?”

  
“Yes—yes— _ I’m sorry _ , Tom, please—” Harry cries in earnest, and how could Tom ever bear to deny such lovely tears? 

His fingers pull out shiny and slick, earning a disappointed sigh he chuckles at. It’s easy to lean back and work himself out of his slacks, pulling out his own throbbing cock, and steadily pump himself with the leftover lube. Below him, Harry’s face is wet with tears as he watches intently, licking his lips, cheeky boy.

(He doesn’t bother to get undressed. Harry doesn’t even have to say anything for Tom to know that he gets  _ off _ at the silent power play—him always completely clothed, while Harry ends up bare and naked wherever he chooses to fuck his pet.)

He guides the tip of his cock and presses himself in, Harry’s body giving in so sweetly, all well-worked and relaxed, and Tom _ takes. _ Sinking in slowly, inch by inch the way he knows Harry loves—the stretch is still a lot, but it comes with a lingering pain after that his Harry relishes. 

“Oh my  _ God _ —fuck—”

He presses in until he’s completely sheathed, hard heavy cock stuffing Harry full. Tom gives a couple of experimental thrusts, earning a drawn-out moan from Harry which he hungrily kisses up. 

“Only  _ my _ name when we’re in bed,” Tom admonishes with a rough push of his hips, “remember who put you back on your beloved stage.”

Harry gives a shaky nod, eyes unfocused since the moment he was filled with that perfect heat and reduced to gasping whimpers, looking up bound and reverent. Tom thinks a lesser man would have come undone at the sight, especially with the way Harry shivers, trembling as delicately as a leaf.

It’s a slow tango for two, an obscene show between Tom’s larger than average cock size and Harry’s frankly too petite body that can barely take him all the way in. He pulls back slowly, ever careful with Harry’s body, just enough that he makes him feel every inch of Tom’s cock. His boy gets impatient enough to squirm again, trying to encourage Tom to resume fucking him, so unlike Harry’s timid act from earlier. He smiles, squeezing his ass roughly in warning, other hand holding Harry down by the hips as he pulls out completely and watches how his body tries to squeeze around him, keep him inside.

Slender legs wrap around his torso, an insistent tug for more that Tom readily gives in to. His hands brace the boy’s hips, roughly fucking into him all at once, setting a brutal pace. Harry cries and begs helplessly, rolling his hips downwards in time with each upward thrust as he takes it, precum leaking freely from Harry’s cock sticky between them. The room fills with the sound of skin-slapping-skin, throaty cries against Tom’s heavy breaths of exertion.

Harry is the first to come. Covered in a thin sheen of sweat and choking on a gasp as he teeters right on the edge of climax, it only takes a harsher pounding in the right spot for his boy to tighten down, around him—coming with a strangled cry, arching off the bed and straining his wrists in their confines, streaks of white painting his waist and clenching for one moment with  _ perfect _ pressure around Tom, before Harry sighs, going limp and loose—breathless and whining as Tom continues to push into him. 

“Lovely, darling thing, my perfect boy.”

Tom buries himself in a final time—pressed close all along the body of his offering, the words said into Harry’s ear in a hush—unloading deep into the writhing body. He peppers reverent kisses across his pet, carefully undoing the handcuffs to watch Harry bring his arms down and cover his face. 

“What’s the matter, pretty?”   
  


“You fucked me into agreeing to play nice,” he laments, voice muffled by his shielding arms.

Tom moves forward to lay another kiss on him, this time on his lips, watching Harry’s bright red face scrunch in betrayal as Tom laughs. 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm active [on my Twitter](https://twitter.com/therealconnor60)! (´,,•ω•,,)♡


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